


Revolving Door

by SpockPandaSaurus (xxpanda92xx)



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Family Bonding, No Romance, No Sex, Siblings, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-27 21:33:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16227755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxpanda92xx/pseuds/SpockPandaSaurus
Summary: "As they were leaving, Jason had made his big mistake. Absentmindedly, because he knew it was the socially appropriate thing to do, he called out, "Come by any time!"He really should have known better."All the times his family took him up on the unintended offer, and the one time he took the offer when someone extended it.(Alternately, Jason becoming much more of a big brother than he ever meant to)





	1. Dick

Really, Jason had no one to blame but himself. That's what Dick insisted, anyways.

Everyone had been there to help him move into his new apartment. Bruce had even taken him shopping at Ikea for new furniture. It was weird. Tim had tagged along, and for the paparazzi's sake they had pretended it was a tip for the younger Wayne boy, not the "dead" one. Jason was just along as Tim's friend. Part of Jason rebelled at letting Bruce help him like this, but recognized it was his way of making up for so much bad blood between them. Also, Alfred had pulled him aside and very sternly informed him that, "Since Master Bruce had so many opportunities with you taken away, such as taking you to your prom and graduation ceremony, you should not deny him these," with a look that had Jason feeling like a young kid with a squeaky voice that broke as he tried to explain why that vase was in pieces on the floor. He left the room with his tail between his legs and all arguments against a family outing swallowed down.

Bruce had also paid for the pizza they ate while unpacking and building furniture. That had been an adventure in and of itself. Fuck Ikea. Next time, he was taking Bruce's offer of shopping somewhere nicer, pride be damned. Even Dick had been a bit foul tempered by the end of bookshelf #3, and while Jason's Arabic was a little rusty, he knew most of the words out of Damian's mouth were not Alfred-approved. The only highlight was seeing how many screws he could put in Tim's hair while he was reading the instructions, before he moved or noticed. He regretted it when Tim finally looked up and they had to spend the next five minutes figuring out where they all rolled.

The place did look good when they finally finished, however. Alfred had insisted they take a picture together when he arrived to retrieve Bruce and Damian. Jason refused unless Alfred was in it too, and so after many failed attempts with the camera's timer, they had the perfect family photo. Instead of kneeling, Cassandra and Stephanie had decided they wanted to fit into the frame by piggyback. No matter how much Dick begged, Damian refused to do the same. The end result was Jason sandwiched in the middle of Alfred, Tim, Bruce, and Dick, with Cass on his back, Steph on Bruce's (and he was very proud of both of them for coming to a place that allowed them to do that), and Dami standing between Bruce and Dick. Alfred promised to send him a framed copy as soon as it was printed.

As they were leaving, Jason had made his big mistake. Absentmindedly, because he knew it was the socially appropriate thing to do, he called out, "Come by any time!"

He really should have known better.

 

*****

 

"What are you doing? I almost shot you!" Jason yelled at the intruder. He wasn't worried about anyone hearing him; his building seemed to be very good at ignoring each other, and practically everyone owned a gun for self-defense these days. It was Gotham, after all.

"You wouldn't be the first," Dick told him, wincing as he peeled off his suit. "Sorry, you were the closest and I couldn't face Bruce."

His older brother was sitting in his bath tub, bleeding profusely. "Walk it off. I've had worse and been fine. You know, eventually." Dick glared and Jason rolled his eyes. "Fine. Here, lemme help. Why can't you go back to the Cave? And take your mask off."

"Bruce told me to wait for him. I said I'd be fine, went in anyways. I got my target, but...he had a lot more hired help than I was expecting."

"Idiot. This is why you don't go in when you need backup. What's wrong with you, you've been doing this longer than most, how the fuck have you not learned this yet?"

Dick winced as Jason pulled extra tight on the stitch to convey his irritation. "Hey, you can't talk. Last week, I told you to wait because we were five minutes out. You screamed, 'I do what I want, bitch!' and swung into the room firing everywhere and singing Wrecking Ball."

"The difference," Jason explained, "is I _didn't_ need backup." Thankfully, the injuries were all superficial and looked worse than they were. Nothing was serious, or Jason would have hauled Dick's ass back to the Cave regardless of Bruce's fury. He loaned Dick some clothes and left him to shower.

When Dick emerged, he headed straight for the kitchen. "Hey, what's for dinner?"

"It's three in the morning, not dinner time. Go home and eat your own fucking food."

"Cereal it is."

"Dick!"

"Why don't you have any of the good kinds? Whatever, I'll bring some by later for next time."

"What? No! Stop! Fuck, get out of my house. I just didn't want you dying in my tub, I'd probably lose my security deposit. That wasn't an open invitation." Jason glared at Dick, who had somehow already made himself a huge bowl of cereal and had the spoon in his mouth.

"You already gave me an invitation, remember?"

Jason was distracted from his moment of glee at how big his clothes were on the older man. "What? When?"

"You told us all to come by any time!"

"I didn't mean it! It's just something people say!" A closer examination of Dick's face, masked as an irritated glower, made him sigh. The puppy eyes were an act, he knew (and besides, his were better), but he could also see that the words had stung; he knew where to look to read for pain. "I'm stuck with this now, aren't I?" he asked, dropping his head to the counter.

"Yep!" Dick cheered. "Mind if I stay the night?"

"Fine, whatever. I'm not tucking you in."

"Duh. As big brother, it's my job to tuck you in."

Jason raised his head to resume glaring. "I sleep with a gun under my pillow. Tuck me in and I'll shoot you with it." Dick's face was clear though, happy again, and so his guilt disappeared to make way for the inevitable impending headache.

He threw some blankets at the couch and went to his own room to sleep. Just as he was starting to drift off, his bedroom door opened and light poured in. "Do you want me to read you a bedtime story?"

"I swear to God, I will fucking shoot you," Jason growled as he dug under his pillow.

Dick laughed. "Good night, Little Wing," he murmured, voice full of warmth and affection. He padded into the room and pressed a kiss to Jason's forehead. "Thanks for everything tonight. And for not taking it back."

Jason grunted and swung his gun at Dick's thigh. The other man chuckled and jumped back. He left and Jason finally fell back to sleep. When he awoke, Dick was gone, but his dishes were in the sink and the blankets strewn on the couch. Also, he had apparently used up the milk but put the carton back, which Jason discovered when he tried to make his own bowl of cereal. _Asshole. I should have shot him._


	2. Stephanie

"I smell cookies. Why do I smell cookies?" Jason asked his apartment. It was noon, the morning after a waste of a stakeout, and the last thing he expected was the smell of cookies.

"Because I'm making some!" the apartment answered.

He blinked. Cookies were now the second least expected thing, with a talking apartment being the first.

"I already ate all the waffles. But there's also cupcakes. Wanna help decorate?" Stephanie came around the corner, plate of cookies in hand. She took one look at him and raised an eyebrow. "Wow, you're almost as bad as Tim before your coffee."

"No, I'm not."

"True, you're actually capable of full sentences. Cookie?"

He took one. They were still warm. "Thanks. I'm just gonna...pants?" He pointed back at his room, suddenly aware that he was in nothing but his boxers.

She shrugged. "If you want. Here, take these. I've got more in the oven." She handed the entire plate to him and walked away, messy bun bouncing slightly.

He munched the cookies as he made himself presentable. They were good, and he'd woken up to worse. Cookies were infinitely preferable to coffin lids. He told Steph as much when he joined her in the kitchen, but instead of her usual eye roll at his dead jokes or responding with one of her own (she was allowed as a card holding member of the Dead Robins Club, into which Dick still wasn't welcomed), she tensed.

Jason frowned and surveyed his kitchen. There were more trays of cookies waiting to be baked, and several pans of cupcakes waiting their turn. A decorating station was set up on his table. "What's wrong?"

She looked away, focusing on collecting dirty dishes and cleaning up her mess. "I stress cook."

"Okay."

Stephanie didn't say any more, but he waited. He had worked with Batman and Red Robin and Talia al Ghul, he could wait her out. Finally, she turned off the water and turned around. "I wasn't able to save everyone. I did my best. I didn't do anything wrong. No mistakes. Bruce told me so. I made him check. I wanted him to tell me what I messed up so I could fix it next time. I figured if anyone would tell me how I fucked up...but even he didn't have anything to add. Time just wasn't on my side."

"That doesn't make it easier though." A statement, not a question. He'd been there too. They all had. It was the shitty part of the job no one talked about until they had to face it.

The timer beeped. He pulled the cookies out and set them aside. Steph was crying now, and he walked over to her. A light tug was all it took and she was crying against his chest. He didn't say anything, didn't make any noise; there was no comfort she hadn't already heard if she went to Bruce first, and he didn't think, "Shhhh, it'll be okay," would make her feel any better. This wasn't his strong point, and he had no idea why she was at his place instead of with someone who actually knew what to do with feelings. He was going to do his best, though. She chose him, so he'd try.

When she was cried out, he stopped rubbing her back and petting her hair. "Sorry," she sniffled.

He handed her a Kleenex. "It's fine. Sorry I'm shit at this."

"Better than Bruce."

He doubted it; Bruce was a father of five while Jason regularly joked about the worst moment of his life, but he knew her relationship with Bruce was different than than the other Robins, so he didn't press.

They resumed baking once Steph pulled herself together. Conversation stayed on light topics, and he made sure to avoid death jokes (it was hard). When they finished and cleaned everything up, Steph hesitated. "I know I just barged in, but...can I stay a little longer?"

He had already committed to taking the night off if she needed him. It wasn't a good state of mind to be alone with your thoughts. "What do you wanna do?"

"TV? Something good and complex."

"Sci-fi okay?" She nodded. "I have just the thing."

Hours later, Stephanie stretched, almost knocking down an empty Chinese carton. "That was good! I never thought I'd see the day when a leg was, like, the sweetest gift ever. When does the next season air?"

"It was cancelled."

"What?" she screeched. "No more grumpy cop? No more scanning of balls? Why would you do this to me? Why?"

"Hey, I didn't cancel it!" he protested as she hit him with a pillow. "I was super pissed too!"

"Ugh, this isn't fair," she whined. "Why do all the good shows get cancelled?"

"Ratings are stupid." He watched as she started burrowing under the blanket he had pulled out. "Are you staying the night?"

"Please?"

He sighed. "Yeah, okay. See you in the morning." On a whim, he kissed her forehead like Dick had the other night. It felt weird, but Steph smiled.

He went to bed, planning on cleaning the rest of their mess up in the morning. Being emotionally supportive was exhausting. He had no idea how people did it on a regular basis. He slept so hard he didn't hear Steph leave in the morning. When he awoke, the living room was spotless, and she had used frosting to spell out, "THANKS" across a bunch of leftover cookies with at heart at the end. He ate the heart one right away; he had a reputation to maintain. _At least she's a better house guest than Dick._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The show they're talking about is Almost Human, which I'm still bitter about.


	3. Tim

Jason shuffled the bags on his arm around so he could get his keys out of his pocket and unlock the door. He was concerned he'd drop something fragile, but making two trips was never an option. He was the Red Hood, former gang lord, and the second (and undeniably coolest) Robin, Boy Wonder. Two trips was for normal people who didn't live on the top floor of their apartment building. It took some finagling, but he made it inside without dropping anything. It was thanks to his years of training and outlawing ( _Is that a verb? It is now._ ) that he didn't drop anything once he was inside the apartment as well.

"Does it ever occur to any of you that it might be a bad idea to invite yourselves into the home of the only one of us to use guns?" he snapped at the person in his living room as he carried his groceries to the kitchen.

Tim didn't look up from his seat on Jason's couch. "You were struggling and cursing. I knew your hands would be too full to shoot me."

"You heard me? Why the fuck didn't you open the door?"

"I broke into the house of the only one of us who uses guns. I didn't want to get shot!"

Jason threw an apple he was unloading into his fruit bowl at Tim's head. The little asshole caught it without looking and took a bite. "Why are you here?"

"Studying."

Jason looked across the room to the mess of papers, notecards, books, and writing utensils strewn over his coffee table. Tim had another textbook perched on the arm of the couch and was taking notes on a notebook in his lap. He had a pen his mouth, a pencil tucked into the small ponytail that was keeping the worst of his overgrown hair hair out of his eyes, and a highlighter behind each ear, plus one in his hand. They were all different colors. "I can see that, but why here?"

"My apartment's too quiet and there's too many distractions. The library is too loud. Dick's too obnoxiously energetic and chatty to focus around. And Bruce and Damian are fighting, so the Manor's out."

"I'd think that'd be a fight of silent glares and fuming," Jason commented as he put the last of his stuff away.

Tim shook his head, dislodging a highlighter, which he deftly caught before the couch cushions could eat it. "Damian is growing up. He's discovered the slamming of doors."

"The Manor has a lot of doors."

"Exactly." Tim finally looked up. "If you need me to go, I can."

Jason sighed. Tim was always doubting and second-guessing himself and his place in the family. Not his right to patrol and join the family nighttime business, but his worth as a Wayne adoptee. His face was a casual mask, better than Dick's puppy eyes, but Jason knew the look of believing yourself to be unwanted and underfoot. He'd worn it for a long time around the Manor when not in costume, until Alfred had handed him a copy of his chore schedule and told Jason he was welcome to help whenever he was bored. "I wouldn't want to disturb your nest there, busy bird." _Not a nickname that'll stick_ , he decided as he said it. "You can make me dinner to pay me back."

"Deal. And thanks." Tim turned back to his notes.

"Coffee?" Jason offered while pouring the mug. He had started brewing it as soon as he saw Tim on the couch; he already knew the answer.

"Is water wet?" Tim asked in reply. "Thanks," he followed with when Jason handed him the steaming mug.

Jason didn't answer, just set a bowl of grapes next to Tim on the couch and sat on the other side. He grabbed a book off the top of the pile and read the cover. "Handbook for Literary Analysis?"

"The final for that is coming up, and it's gonna kick my ass. The class is interesting and the discussion is great, but the professor's a real hard ass and his tests suck." Tim popped a grape in his mouth and Jason fought a grin. Everyone tried to force Tim to eat better and take care of himself, but he had quickly learned that was much easier to trick him into it. Tim probably didn't even realize he was eating.

"So why aren't you taking notes on some fancy computer?" he asked as he flipped the textbook open and began idly skimming the table of contents.

"I'll type it up later. Makes me study the info twice."

Jason grunted in reply. He was distracted by the material in the book. College had never been a goal for him, except for a bright, brief time as Bruce Wayne's son. It had been out of reach for a kid like him before that, so why bother trying? And zombies couldn't attend college, no matter who adopted them. But literature and reading had always been his favorite, and he loved picking things apart for symbolism and meaning, even when sometimes, "the curtains were just fucking blue," as one commenter had replied to a review he had written on an anonymous blog (he had to talk to _someone_ , and strangers on the internet were usually more responsive than most of his other friends).

Without fully realizing what he was doing, he grabbed a notebook that Tim wasn't using, found a blank page, and started jotting down a couple notes. He wouldn't be able to keep the book since Tim still needed it for his class, so he would have to record anything he wanted for later. They sat like that, eating and reading and writing in silence as soft background noise played from Tim's phone. Jason jumped when, a few hours later, Tim's head dropped to his shoulder. He blinked at the notes in front of him as he erased the stray mark his jolt had caused. _When did I take all this?_ He had his own small study area now, with borrowed post-its, notecards, and colored pens. _Shit, I hope I didn't write in it and mess it up._ He looked at Tim and smiled. Swapping his coffee with decaf had worked. He knew the kid needed to study, but it wouldn't do him any good if he ended up sick in the hospital because he pushed himself farther than he could go.

Jason yawned, suddenly tired. Studying was more exhausting than he remembered. He'd never admit it, but his respect for Tim grew when he thought about how he did this for multiple classes, plus his WE work and vigilante routine. How the kid hadn't cracked was beyond him. He cleared their areas and repositioned them to a better angle. He pressed a light kiss to the top of Tim's head. It still felt funny, but he was starting to understand why Dick did it to all of them when he could get away with it. He wasn't sure if it was worth all the bruises Dick got in return, but it was nice.

When he woke up, the couch was emptier and something was sizzling in the kitchen. Tim was cooking something on the little indoor grill Jason had yet to try. "Sneaking me decaf was a dirty movie," Tim told him as he sat up, "but I looked over your notes on my lit book, and all your help makes up for it."

"Oh thank fuck, I thought I'd have messed up your notes and have to face the wrath of the littlest Robin."

Tim shot a glare his way. "Don't make me burn your dinner. Damian's not taller than me yet."

Jason stood up and stretched, popping his back. "Like you said, he's growing up. I give it a week."

"Shut up and eat your food before I poison it," Tim grumbled, handing him a plate.

It had steak that smelled heavenly and was clearly cooked to perfection, and grilled vegetables alongside it. Iced tea was already waiting at the table. "I take back everything I said. You're going to have a late growth spurt and be taller than me and Bruce."

Tim snorted. They ate quietly for a while, until Tim asked if Jason had ever considered college. "You'd do well." When Jason summarized his thoughts on the matter, Tim looked contemplative. "We could always make you a fake ID. You could always make you a fake ID. You don't need us."

"Yeah, but...." Jason took a bite to keep from answering. How to explain he wanted any documents for his education to have his real name on them? That he wanted any letters behind his name to be attached to his name, not some made up persona? It was stupid, trying to prove himself to a past life that hadn't cared one bit about him.

"Or we could look at making you undead?" Tim mused.

Jason nearly choked. "In case your powers of deduction have failed you, I'm already undead."

Tim waved a hand at him. "I mean resurrect Jason Todd, not angry, vengeful Robin."

"I said I was sorry for trying to kill you."

"No, you told me to get over it because, I quote, 'Some of us have actually been murdered and you don't see me holding a grudge about it.' And then I punched you," Tim corrected with a roll of his eyes, "because of how blatantly false and stupid that statement was."

 _Oh. Right._ "Same thing?"

"Not even remotely." Tim shrugged. "But whatever, I got over it. Can you help me study for lit?"

A couple weeks later, a package was waiting at Jason's door with a note from Tim. _'Think about it.'_ Inside were brochures and pamphlets from Gotham U admissions, and a pile of textbooks from literature classes. Sticking out of the front cover of The Handbook for Literary Analysis was the Replacement's test. It had an A circled in red at the top, with positive comments throughout. _'Think about it.'_ As if Jason was could do anything else.


	4. Cassandra

Jason stepped out of the shower, yawning and stretching. His spare room had been converted into a gym with a small weapons stash and a mini Bat-laptop that Tim had procured for him - not a full Batcave or safe house, but enough to keep him busy between cases. He really was trying to create a civilian life for himself, but he'd be an idiot to let himself relax. He'd just finished a good workout, pushing himself until he couldn't hear himself think, and he planned to bury himself in Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. He hadn't had a chance to read it yet, but the movie was fun, and it combined to his favorite things - classical literature and dead people who weren't interested in staying in their graves.

He jumped at the intruder on his couch, but relaxed and finished pulling on his shirt. Of course Cass wouldn't use the door and wait to be let in. At least he was sort of expecting her. He had forgotten today was the day she'd be stopping by, but she _had_ been invited. "Hey, sis."

"Hey. Bro." She held out her fist and he bumped it in return.

He pulled out the library bag that held the books he'd picked out for her. Cass had graduated from board books a while ago, but she still wasn't confident in her reading ability. Jason wasn't sure why she had picked him as a teacher. They weren't close, and she and Tim were much more alike in temperament. He didn't think she was on a babysitting assignment though; Bruce would have probably left that to Tim. So he made frequent library runs and kept a dictionary handy, and she kept showing up at his door (metaphorically speaking).

"I picked a lot of different ones for you to try. You said you wanted to try fantasy now, right?"

Cass nodded, digging through the bag. "Unicorn's Secret...Magic Treehouse...what is a Droon?"

"A made up name for a kingdom. Oh, and a unicorn is-"

"A pretty horse with a horn on its head." She continued digging through the bag. "This is thick." She frowned at the cover.

He leaned over to see it. "Dealing with Dragons? It's a little thicker than your usual book, but I promise it's not too hard for you."

Jason could she was still wary of it. "Last."

"That's fine." This was her deal, her show. He wouldn't force her into anything she was uncomfortable with trying.

She picked up one of the unicorn books and began reading as they settled into their usual positions. His arm was thrown over the back of the couch, and she leaned back against his chest so he could read over her shoulder and make corrections or explanations as needed. There were two steaming mugs on the table within easy reach. Jason knew they'd be full of perfectly prepared tea.

Cass pulled a blanket over them and they read for hours. He enjoyed listening to her read some of the books he'd loved as a kid and watching her reactions. He was already composing a list of other books to try with her. Despite her trepidation, Cass was far too advanced for the skinnier books that she preferred. He told her as much when they broke for tea and cookies. "No," she said stubbornly, sounding like a petulant child.

Jason bit into his cookie to keep from laughing, though he knew she read it in his body anyways. Despite being a relatively late addition to the family, she had the signature Bat-sulk down. The same pout that had graced every bat and bird was now directed at the cover of the thicker novel. The book cover seemed just as menaced as Dick's empty cereal box, Tim's empty coffee mug, Steph's too small waffle stack, Babs' dying laptop battery warning, Bruce's WE appointment book, Damian's empty hands after trying to swipe the Batmobile keys, and Jason's empty bullet clips. "Come on, why not?" he asked when he could trust his voice.

"Scary," she muttered.

He chuckled, unable to help it, and ruffled her soft hair. "You wore the scariest fucking mask any of us have ever seen. You face down some pretty bad ass villains all on your own. You can kick all our asses without even breaking a sweat. Why is the book so scary?"

"Big."

He pressed a kiss to the side of her head. She jumped and startled, and he enjoyed it, knowing he'd probably never startle her again. "Try it for me. Just a couple chapters. I'll help you, like always. You can do this."

She deepened her pout, but picked it up and flipped it to the first page. He hugged her tightly and rubbed a thumb against her shoulder in what he hoped was a soothing manner. It seemed to work when Dick did it. Cass started reading, albeit haltingly, but it didn't take her long to get into the flow of the words. He smiled as she snorted at the funny parts. He wasn't surprised she liked the young woman who rebelled against her upbringing and carved her own path.

"Tired," Cass declared after a few chapters.

Jason took the book and set it with the others. "Well?"

"All are keepers."

"I'll pick up more of the series when I go back. We'll do more of the Dragons each week too."

She drew the blanket tighter around her and snuggled into his chest. Apparently, he was a pillow now. He'd have to kill someone to get his reputation back if anyone broke in. "Thank you," she murmured.

"For what?" he asked as he shifted them to be more comfortable.

"Good brother. Don't make me talk. And good teacher. Don't push, only encourage." She must have felt him tense at the praise, because she raised her hands out of the blanket so he could see them and continued in the other language they had been learning together, American Sign Language. She found it easier to communicate in, and took to it like a fish to water when they introduced her (Damian's idea, surprisingly, and he'd called them all "imbeciles" and variations thereof about a thousand times apiece for not coming to the same conclusion faster), and Jason was just excited to add another language to his repertoire. "Don't be uncomfortable. You're a good man, Jason. Everyone knows it. You're smart and you have a big heart. You love your family. You would make a great teacher. You'd take care of your kids and help them. Good man, good brother, good teacher."

"Shut the fuck up," he muttered. "You don't know what you're talking about." There was no heat to his words, though.

"Good night, big brother," she whispered, her point made.

"Good night, little sister," he whispered back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Books mentioned: The Unicorns Secret series by Kathleen Duey, The Magic Treehouse series by Mary Pope Osborne, The Secrets of Droon series by Tony Abbott, and Dealing with Dragons, the first in the Enchanted Forest Chronicles series by Patricia C. Wrede.
> 
> Did I shamelessly give Cass all of my favorite books as a kid? Yes, yes I did.


	5. Babs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a brief mention of what happened to Babs in The Killing Joke, but it's never directly discussed, just mentioned and hinted at.

"So, I hear you're thinking about coming back to life," announced the red-headed woman climbing in the window.

Jason glanced up from his laptop where he was checking the financials of a potential target in a case he working. "Do you know how doors work?"

"You got a top story apartment for a reason," Barbara argued.

"So I could break into it without being noticed, not the whole damn family."

"You invited us in."

"You weren't even here!" he protested.

"I was on patrol so everyone else could be." He couldn't argue that. "Anyways, I think you should do it. It might cost you some anonymity, but it will be good for you in the long run. And good for your family."

"Did you come over just to fill me in on the latest gossip about me?" he snapped. The idea had been rattling around his brain since Tim threw it out there. It was pissing him off that he couldn't drop it.

"And play video games," Babs answered, holding up Mario Kart.

He cleared the couch and coffee table while she set up the game. Though they rarely teamed up during their nightly work, he and Babs formed Team Red for family game nights (with Tim joining when teams of three were needed), and they hung out and practiced when time allowed. The Batfamily was very competitive and they had to stay on top of their game.

"Goddamn motherfucking blue shells," Jason muttered as Barbara's King Boo raced past.

She snorted and grabbed a chip from the bowl between them. "Pizza tonight?"

"Damn right."

"Good, go order. You've already lost anyways."

"You are the big sister I never asked for," he grumbled as he dug out his phone.

"And yet, here I am." She punched her fist in the air as King Boo crossed the finish line in first place. Jason's Dry Bones started crying shortly thereafter.

Jason ordered their usual meat lovers and dug out his wallet; it was his turn to pay. "Here you are," he acknowledged her previous statement. "Why, again?"

"I wanted to kick your ass at video games?"

"You could do that any night after patrol, but you're here on your night off," he argued. "What's up?"

Barbara leaned back into the cushions and sighed. "Dad's being fatherly. I got teamed up with Bruce yesterday, and he started being mentor-y. Dick's being clingy. It's that time of year." She put her hand to her stomach and held it there.

Jason nodded and touched a scar of his own. "You know they - we - are all just scared of losing you. Not just as Batgirl or Oracle, but as Barbara. Our friend. Our sister."

"I know. And I appreciate it. You're better about it. You're not overbearing. I can't be alone, but I don't want to be smothered, either. You get it."

He took her hand away from her stomach and used it to pull her into a gentle hug. "Yeah, I get it." He held her loosely, so she could break away any time she felt crowded, but she remained until the pizza guy knocked at the door. Jason pressed a kiss to her forehead and went to the door.

When he returned after paying and tipping the man, Barbara was staring at him. "That was positively Dick Grayson of you, Jason."

"Shut up and eat your damn food," he said, heat rising to his cheeks.

"Thanks," she said, and he knew she didn't mean for the pizza he handed her. He ignored it. After a moments of eating too much to talk, Barbara asked, "So what cover story are we going with when you come back to life?" Her eyes were bright and her smirk mischievous, any previous trace of vulnerability gone. Jason could breathe easier.

"I wasn't dead, just a lost amnesiac, and only now found my way home?" He hadn't given that part much thought, just the pro's and cons of doing so.

"Too boring. You gotta make it fun!" Babs insisted.

"Like, I joined a family cult of vigilantes and Bruce disowned me and faked my death because I was dead to him?"

"There you go! Much more fun. Give all the bored gossip reporters something to write about besides Dick's ass."

"They're never gonna get bored writing about that."

She snorted. "Oooh, I know. You ran away to a tribe of desert monks to learn their secrets, and you only now completed your challenges to learn what was behind their secret door."

Jason glared. He'd been so pissed when she pulled that joke on him as a kid. 'I can't tell you because you're not a monk,' his ass. "I went to live with Superman and Batman wouldn't let me into Gotham again because he doesn't allow aliens."

"You became the youngest Green Lantern ever, and had to leave earth for a while."

"I went undercover to infiltrate children's gangs and put a stop to them."

"You had to go into witness protection because you thought you knew who Batman was and didn't want him to attack you."

"I secluded myself in the mountains so I could learn to play the flute perfectly in peace. I have also learned how to talk to goats since then, as they were my only companions."

Barbara was giggling now, and Jason was proud. They transitioned to playing Uno and other card games, until finally neither could keep their eyes open. "Can I sleep with you? Don't wanna be alone," she murmured. He nodded and they both collapsed on his bed without even climbing under the covers.

Later that night/morning, Jason was dimly aware of someone pulling blankets up to his chin. They whispered, "Good night, little brother," and placed the softest of kisses on his forehead before disappearing into the night. He was asleep again before he could fully register the red hair or sweet perfume and who they belonged to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is version of the joke that Barbara used on Jason when he was a kid. Note that if you're using it on your own friends, the more doors you add, the better their reaction: http://mistupid.com/jokes/page106.htm


	6. Bruce

Jason groaned and hoisted himself in through his bedroom window. He had just wrapped up a case, the bad guy was zip tied to a light pole, and minimal blood had been shed. Unfortunately, most of it was his. Nothing that a shower and light bandaging couldn't fix; he doubted stitches would be needed. He landed with a grunt that turned into another groan as he landed on a cut on his shoulder. Not his most graceful moment. At least no one was around to witness the former Boy Wonder falling on the floor in a bleeding lump.

The almost imperceptible sound of someone moving down his hall had him rolling to his feet and drawing his guns. He knew how it looked, the Red Hood breaking into someone's apartment, and he started thinking of excuses that wouldn't end with him having to shoot one of his neighbors. The silhouette that stepped into the doorway had its arm raised to attack as well. Jason breathed a sigh of relief and lowered his weapons. The easily recognized shadow did the same. "Bruce."

"Jason."

"Can we do this after I clean up so I don't lose my deposit because I can't get all of the blood out of the carpet? Or should I wait till you've said your piece and I punch you and you hit me back so I can get it all in one go?" _Wow, that came out a lot more bitter than intended._

"It's not - you're not in trouble," Bruce replied with a heavy sigh. In that sigh, Batman sounded like a man who had been fighting an unwinnable war for too many years while raising and mentoring a small army of (mostly) children, and watching most of them die/fake die at least once. Jason tried to reign in his defensiveness. He was expecting reprimand for his clumsiness at the very least, but if Bruce was here in peace, he'd give him a chance. "Can I help you?"

Jason bit back a retort about not wanting or needing his help. _Olive branch. Lost time. Stern and potentially disappointed Alfred._ "Sure."

Bruce took off the cape, cowl, and gloves while following Jason to the bathroom. Jason peeled out of his armor and shirt, and Bruce started cleaning and dressing the wounds. "So why are you here?" Jason asked after an extended, uncomfortable silence.

For some reason, the question made Bruce's eyes sad, even if he kept his outward expression blandly stoic. "I'll show you when we're done here."

Well, at least that meant he probably wasn't going to get bitched at for anything, but it left Jason even more confused. If it was a case, Bruce would have just told him. If it was a lecture, he wouldn't have had to ask. If it was someone injured or hurt, he would have been comm'd to their location to either save them or visit them. Whatever this was about, it fell outside of his usual interactions with Batman.

It wasn't too long before Bruce finished patching him up. The injuries were all as superficial as Jason assumed. Bruce handed him a clean shirt and silently walked to the kitchen. The light over the table was on, but no others, and Jason snorted at the image of Batman lurking awkwardly in his kitchen, not knowing if or when he'd return. Bruce pointed to a chair for him to sit in, back to the rest of the kitchen. "I just need a minute."

Jason took the seat with trepidation. He kept his head forward, but tracked Bruce's movements and noises as best he could. _Is that...a lighter?_

His brain screeched to a halt when Bruce placed a cake in front of him. A small, round, chocolate cake that had a ring of lit candles around the edge. In red icing was a shakily written, "Happy Adoption Day, Jason".

He sat, staring, barely comprehending the sight before him, until Bruce said, "You should blow out the candles. Before they melt on the cake."

Jason studied Bruce. He was nervous. The Batman was nervous. He had the power to destroy him in this moment, more power than the Joker or Riddler or Scarecrow or any Arkham resident had truly possessed. "Do I get to make a wish?"

Bruce smiled and his shoulders relaxed. "Whatever you want."

Jason stared back at the candles, his mind empty. What did he want? What was happening already. Improved relations with his family. To not be the black sheep, the bedtime story warning all the good little Robins what could happen if they mess up, if they go too far off the path. To have one conversation with Bruce that didn't end in a fight (he still wasn't sure how they managed the entire Ikea adventure). He closed his eyes and blew out the candles.

Bruce held out a fork. Jason remembered a birthday where he had asked for a cake that he could eat all on his own. It had been a test of sorts; would Bruce Wayne really keep his promise that he could have whatever he wanted for his birthday? The answer was yes. Bruce had even sat next to him and rubbed his back while he threw it all up. He hadn't needed a lecture to know that was a mistake.

Jason accepted the fork, but told Bruce, "You should join me. I've slowed down in my old age." Bruce chuckled and sat down with a fork of his own. Jason pulled out all the candles and licked them clean before digging in. His eyes widened at the first bite. "This is Alfred's!"

"He said this recipe was your favorite when I asked what cake I should get. It took me four tries to get it right. The first two weren't even edible, and the third tasted okay but was as fluffy as a brick. Tim disappeared with it, so I should probably have his assistant schedule him an appointment with his dentist."

"Bruce," Jason interrupted to silence the nervous rambling, "baking is just applied chemistry. You make antidotes to toxins on a regular basis, and under a lot more pressure. How?"

"Alfred said the same thing, except he managed to sound extremely patronizing while doing it."

Jason snorted. He could imagine the older man's wry look of amusement and disappointment rolled into one. "How big of a mess did you make?"

Bruce frowned. "My kitchen rights have been revoked for at least the next eight months." He took another bite, then stood and went to the kitchen. "I forgot to get us milk."

"You'll be sorely disappointed, old man. Your idiot son dropped in yesterday to talk about a case that was entering my territory, and used it all up with his cereal. I haven't had time to get more yet."

"He warned me when I arranged for him to cover my patrol tonight, so I picked some up on the way," Bruce said, walking back to the table with two cups. "He said you preferred whole milk and I took him at his word, so if he lied, sorry."

Jason accepted the proffered mug. "Nah, skim tastes like shitty water. I'm surprised you didn't hack my credit card purchases to make sure."

"Tim did offer, but I chose to trust Dick."

"Wait, did everyone know about this?"

"Just your brothers. I informed them during the briefing. Dick and Tim agreed to help cover so I could leave patrol early, and I think Damian was looking forward to working with Dick again. He only threatened Tim twice and insulted him once. And they weren't even death threats, just bodily harm."

Jason chuckled. "Don't worry, Robin will be your sidekick again in the morning." He ate another bite, then asked what had been bugging him since Bruce sat down again. "So if you're here in uniform, I'm assuming you didn't come through the front door."

"That might have raised some questions I figured you'd rather avoid."

"So you came in the window?"

"Yes."

"While carrying a cake and milk?"

"I'm Batman," Bruce explained in his most dramatic voice.

Jason laughed, almost snorting milk up his nose. Bruce looked inordinately pleased with himself. They finished what they could of the cake - Jason had about a third left over for later - and retired to the living room for coffee. "Tim said you were thinking about taking college classes?" Bruce asked.

"Am I the only thing you guys have to gossip about anymore?"

"Everyone's on break from team-ups at the moment, so no news there, and Damian's fallen behind on his classwork and is on threat of getting benched until all assignments are completed, so you're the most interesting thing right now, I'm afraid." Bruce smiled at his pout. "So what would you major in?"

"Literature? I know it's not a degree that really fits the Wayne legacy, but-"

"Fuck that," Bruce said casually. This time, Jason did have liquid out the nose. Shit, hot coffee was uncomfortable. Bruce smirked his signature Batgrin, and Jason glared; that timing had definitely been intentional. "Study what you want. I don't see you clambering for a position at Wayne Enterprises anytime soon, and if you did, you're too smart for them to not find something for you, no matter what degree you do or don't have."

Jason swallowed thickly. "Bruce-" He wasn't sure what else to say. The man didn't give compliments frequently, and they rarely were directed towards him.

Bruce crossed the room. He took Jason's mug, set it aside, and pulled him to his feet and into a hug. He was taller than Bruce now, but Jason found himself curling into the older man, wanting to feel like a young teenager being held by his father again. "Son, I know we've had our differences. I know we don't see eye-to-eye on a lot of things, and may never. But you have always, always been my son. I've always loved you. And no matter how angry or disappointed I may have been in your choices, I've never thought of you as less than you are - an intelligent, courageous young boy who grew up into a fine man despite all of the many, many hurdles life threw your way, including the several I caused or contributed to."

Jason was crying now. He had tried to fight it, but it'd been too long since he'd had Bruce Wayne as a father, not Batman the disgruntled mentor. "I love you, Dad," he whispered.

"I love you too, Jason. No matter how much we fight, no matter how much I piss you off, no matter how much I disapprove, I love you."

Bruce held him until he calmed down. From somewhere on his utility belt, he produced a dark-colored handkerchief with the trademark bat embroidered in the corner; Jason had seen him comfort too many victims to be surprised. "Thanks."

Bruce tucked the fabric away. He pressed a kiss to Jason's forehead and backed away, giving him space. "So, literature? Any specific focus?"

It took Jason a minute to regain his bearings and backtrack to their previous discussion. Right, college. "I don't know. Never thought about it. I just like books."

"I can see that," Bruce commented, gesturing to the bookcases lining the walls. "Tim said you were good at the analysis part when you helped him study."

"It's like detective work," Jason replied with a shrug. "You find the clues that give it meaning and extrapolate the data. I mean, some of it's bullshit. Sometimes the green light represents the American Dream, and sometimes the curtains are just fucking blue because the character had weird tastes in interior design. But it's fun."

"Well, if it's what you want to do, then do it. I'll support you the entire way. Don't know if I'll be able to help with more than tuition and fees, but at least I'll do better at that than cooking." They both laughed. "Well, I should head out." Jason was surprised that it was already the predawn hours when the Gotham bats and birds returned to their nests. "Before I go, wanna tell me your wish?"

"Isn't that supposed to make it not come true?"

Bruce smiled. "I've found the Wayne family bank account usually counters that particular curse of bad luck."

Jason thought back on the silly, half-hearted, unnecessarily-disgustingly-Dick-Grayson-levels-of-sappy wish he had made before blowing out the candles. _To know you still love me even though I've strayed so far from what you wanted for me._ "It already came true."

"Well then, I'll grab my stuff and get out of your hair. We'll go shopping for a present later. Anything you want."

He followed Bruce to the bedroom, where the cape, cowl, and gloves were still dumped on the floor. "Hey, Br-Dad?" The word didn't quite fit right in his mouth, but he wanted it to be able to, some day. "I know how much you love talking about emotions and feelings and shit, and I'm sure tonight was as exhausting for you as it was for me, but...Tim seemed pretty down last week when he stopped by. You might consider talking to him some time. Or at least, like, take him to lunch or something."

Bruce pulled his cowl on. "Thanks, Jay, I'll make it a point to check in with him. You're a good brother to him. You've come a long way." Bruce smiled as he started climbing out the window. "I'm proud of you."

Jason was glad Bruce disappeared into what was left of the night so he didn't see him get emotional again.


	7. Damian

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Jason asked as he stared at the kid in front of him.

Damian scowled up at him. He was dressed in casual street clothes and fiddling with his iPod as he tucked his headphones away. "You invited me, Todd. Does your helmet prevent you from getting enough oxygen to your brain?"

"I just meant that you knocked on my door. Why the fuck did you knock on my door?"

Damian's glower shifted. He still looked pissed, but now concern or confusion lurked beneath the surface. Maybe both. The kid wasn't as easy for him to read him as the rest of the family. "It his how you seek to gain entrance to someone's home," he explained slowly. "Have you taken any blows to the head recently?"

Yes, he had, but that's not what this was about. "You knocked! No one ever knocks! Most of them don't even use the door!"

"Not even Grayson?"

"He was the first one to break in!"

Damian smirked, and for all his darker skin and younger features, he looked just like his father. The Batgrin was genetic, apparently. "I have observed a social mandate which even Grayson ignored. I cannot wait to point this out to him."

Jason rolled his eyes and stood aside to let the kid in. Damian dropped his backpack at the door and kicked off his shoes as Jason asked, "Is there anything that isn't a competition to you?" Damian didn't even grace that with an answer. "You realize he'll probably just be proud and prattle on about it, right?" Of course, that was probably why the kid was doing it, even if he pretended otherwise.

"Tt." He dropped his backpack by the door and kicked off his shoes. "So, what are you feeding me today?"

"Lasagna. Homemade, so I can guarantee there's no meat in it."

"Excellent. No one can cook like Pennyworth, but of all of us, yours is the least subpar. Father almost burned the kitchen down when he attempted to make lunch for Drake."

Jason snorted at that. "I thought his kitchen rights were revoked for eight months."

Damian hopped up on the counter to sit. "Pennyworth was out at the time. It's a year now. Drake got a good laugh, though, so he considered it a success."

"And it doesn't bother you?"

"Who do you think sent Drake the video of it all? Perfectly edited with footage from three security cameras and an added old fashioned comedy soundtrack from those infernal movies Grayson loves?"

"Really?" Jason asked as he put the kettle on for tea. "I'm surprised. Normally, you can't even handle Tim so much as looking Bruce's way."

Damian was quiet as Jason made them both a cup of tea. "It is possible I do not detest Drake as much as I initially did. He has proven himself a competent member of the family. Business," he added hastily. He sharpened his glare over his teacup. "And if you breathe a word of it to anyone, there will not be enough of you left to throw into the Pit a second time."

Jason hid his grin in his cup. "Understood."

Silence fell, but it was comfortable. Damian pulled out a sketchbook and pencils and worked while Jason finished preparing the ingredients. During Dick's "death" (motherfucking asshole) and Spyral infiltration, Damian had latched onto Jason post-resurrection. He supposed it made sense; no matter how the others tried, Jason was the only one who had any frame of reference for what Damian had experienced, and the only one of the Wayne Boys with any emotional competence (not that it was much to begin with) was unavailable. It still hadn't prepared him for the day when he opened his safe house door to find his littlest brother demanding, "You know the nightmares the Pit leaves behind?"

"No?" he'd lied, confused.

"Of course you do, Todd," the boy had insisted. He'd shouldered his way inside. "Teach me the most effective way to deal with them."

"I don't-"

"Now, Todd!"

Jason had taken one look at the shadowed bags forming beneath scared eyes and sighed. He'd fed the kid and talked to him and done his best to help, the whole time wishing Dick was here. Now, Dick was back, but the tradition of Damian stopping by had already been established. He'd announce that he was taking Jason's (never actually extended, dammit) invitation to come over (usually across comm's during patrol, to Batman's distress), and the day he'd be by. Jason would decide on a meal he could make the brat. Damian would come over, they'd share a cup of tea, and then Damian would entertain himself until it was time to cook. Jason taught him every recipe he made and sent the kid home with a copy, though he didn't know if they were cherished or made into paper airplanes or throwing stars (probably throwing stars) to direct at Tim. After dinner was always a unique form of counseling wherein Damian buried questions in statements, and Jason pretended to know what the fuck he was doing. It was still mystifying that anyone would come to him for life advice.

Tonight was no different. Companionable silence faded into sassy cooking commentary ( _"Let's just hope you take after your mother in the kitchen. Your father could burn water."_

__

__

_"No, Drake would burn the water. Father would find some way to actually set it aflame without even turning the stove on."_ ).

Sassy commentary became compliments veiled as insults ( _"I believe this is even more likely to make me vomit than the last meal."_

__

_"Kid, you threw up because you single-handedly ate three quarters of a large pot of spaghetti."_

__

_"Exactly."_

__

_"...Thanks?"_ ).

And the veiled insults transitioned to Jason's most and least favorite part of the meals. The advice part. "What should I get Pennyworth for his birthday?"

Jason paused in his eating. Damian was never this direct. Last week, he had spent an hour ranting about the immaturity and ditzyness of society women, and how Jason was smart to avoid Bruce's events, before Jason had figured out that Dami wasn't just asking for dating advice, but giving it as well, what with Jason's impending resurrection (that he still hadn't agreed to). He'd been confused and touched. Now, he was just confused. "You okay?"

"I just don't have time to wait for your impaired brain to catch on, Todd."

"Ummmm...catnip treats?"

Damian's glare was withering. "The butler, not the cat, imbecile."

Oh, right. There went any argument he was building against the "impaired brain" comment. Alfie's birthday was coming up. It was on his calendar. Which was still flipped to the previous month. But hey, he was trying. "Draw him something," Jason suggested.

"I considered it, but no suitable subject or topic came to mind."

Jason finished his meal while deliberating over it. "Wait here." He retrieved something from his room and handed it to Damian.

The boy eyed it critically. It was the picture from when Jason had first moved into the apartment. "Why would he want a drawing when he already has the photograph? The real thing would be superior as it is without human error."

Jason restrained any reaction to the kid's insecurities. For all his talk, Dami was still a young preteen, and Jason loved being there for him as he grew up. "He's sentimental. He'll love it more because you drew it." Sensing Damian's hesitance, he added, "Plus, you could put your own spin on it. Add in Babs and Kate, since they were on patrol. Turn it into a caricature and give Tim Dumbo ears. Give us all weird haircuts and dye jobs that we'd never be caught dead in, or tattoos that we can't have. Gender swap everyone. Dress Bruce as Superman. Something fun that a photograph would never capture."

Damian no longer looked doubtful, but thoughtful. "I would have to work on it somewhere he could not see."

"So come over here."

"He will suspect something."

Jason shrugged. "Even if you tell him you're working on a present, he won't know what it is till he opens it."

The young boy studied the photo some more. "It would appear you are not a complete moron, Todd."

"Fucking finally!" he cheered. "Help me clear the table and you can work on it while I wash up." Normally, Damian helped with the dishes, but Jason knew the drawing would take time and the deadline was drawing near.

For the next few weeks, Damian practically lived at Jason's. A corner of his table became dedicated to the masterpiece, especially when Damian began sampling different mediums to work with until settling on simple ballpoint pen. Not that Jason was judging; he'd see some beautiful pen drawings online, and he couldn't draw much more than a stick figure. It did mean several restarts and a steady flow of cursing in multiple languages. Everyone stopped in to check on Damian at least once, even Tim, and Bruce had given Jason a wad of cash to cover his heightened food bill ("I know he's your brother, I'm not paying you to babysit, just to make sure you're both well fed."). Jason held his tongue to keep from pointing out that the cash could have fed a small army for a week. It just proved his theory that Bruce didn't actually know how much things cost. Although, with several grown kids rotating through the house at random, plus Alfred, Kate, Selina, Barbara, and Stephanie dropping in at random to steal food, and the newer additions of Duke and Harper (he didn't know them well, but he knew they were around and figured he'd get to know them sooner or later)...maybe a small army was an appropriate food budgeting standard, and Bruce just didn't think to scale it down for only two people.

At long last, the picture was finished. Damian fidgeted while Jason studied it. He had added Kate and Barbara, as suggested. Kate was on the far left, next to Alfred, and Babs was in the front right corner. She was drawn seated on a couch almost out of the frame, with her arm outstretched to the corner, as if she was holding a camera for a selfie. Everyone wore hoodies that looked like casual versions of their costumes, except Alfred, who looked as pristine as ever. They were all making silly faces, again excepting Alfred. The older man was smiling at his family. The drawing was in black and white, but the shading was done in every individual's iconic colors.

Jason must have been dumbstruck too long, because Damian's fidgeting turned into rambling. "I know it's ridiculous, but you said something the camera could never capture, and we're rarely having fun like that when we're all in the same room and suited up and-"

 _Holy contractions, Batman!_ Jason set the picture down carefully. _I knew he was insecure about his art, but he must be fucking terrified right now._ He pulled Damian to his chest and hugged him as tight as he could. "It's fucking amazing, Damian, are you shitting me?" He placed a kiss on the top of his head, wondering how long it would be before he was too tall for it. _Oh fuck no, I am not turning into Dick._ "He's gonna love it."

"No shit," Damian grumbled, but Jason felt how he sagged into the hug for just a moment.

"C'mon, let's go frame shopping."

Damian eyed him as they gathered their stuff. "You cannot pay for the frame and then call it a joint gift, if that is your intention. Although I do appreciate you giving me the idea."

"Hell no, that was all you."


	8. Alfred

"Happy birthday, Master Alfred!" Jason yelled as he walked in the front door of the Manor.

"Just 'Alfred' will do, sir," said the butler. "And thank you."

"Nuh-uh, you're Master Alfred today. It's your birthday, so I'm gonna be you for the day."

Alfred looked highly amused. "And how do you plan to do that?"

Jason made his way to the kitchen, Alfred following along. "I got here too late to make breakfast, sorry. It was in the plans, but rough night."

"And we're all safer for it," Alfred interjected.

"Thanks. But I can do lunch, and if you choose a menu for tonight, I'll have time to shop and cook you birthday dinner too. Don't worry, I'll keep Bruce and Tim out of the kitchen. Might be a little messier than your high standards, but you'll still have a kitchen at the end of the day."

Alfred chuckled. "And I appreciate all of that. But what about all of my non-kitchen based duties? I am more than a chef, you know."

Jason ducked his head, suddenly embarrassed. "I know." He pulled out his wallet and plucked a yellowing paper out. It crinkled in protest as he unfolded it with slow, cautious movements. "I still have the chore list you made me." To be honest, Jason wasn't sure how it had survived all this time. It had somehow made its way into his wallet, and there it stayed. The ink was a little faded, but he could still read Alfred's neat handwriting detailing all the help he could be around the house.

He was so distracted staring at the note that he jumped when a pair of arms wrapped him in a hug. _Sloppy_ , he berated himself on instinct. He hugged Alfred back tightly.

"It is so good to have you back, Master Jason. Back to life, back to the Manor, back to our family." The butler's voice was shaky, but Jason wasn't going to harass him for it (partially because he knew if he spoke, his voice would probably even more wrecked). "We have lost too many many people," Alfred continued, "too many times. That you are here with everyone else, despite everything, is a present enough for me."

"Then consider this a gift for every birthday I missed," Jason replied thickly. Yep, his voice was definitely wavering.

Alfred tightened his hold and stayed like that for a while. The last time he'd hugged Alfred this long, they'd been about the same height. Now, he was holding Alfred to his chest, and the man's hair was paler in color and fewer in number. He (mostly) didn't regret his exile and what had led to him being away for so long, but now that he was back, he was going to try not to alienate everyone immediately.

Finally pulling away, Alfred patted his shoulder and said, "Very well, then, M- Jason, you have a busy day ahead of you, so I shall get out of your way and enjoy some time in peace and relaxation."

"As far as I know, Master Alfred, the whole brood will be flocking about today, so you may wish to head into town if you are looking for quiet." Jason did his best to mimic Alfred's accent, but the judgmental eyebrow told him that he missed by a long shot. Reverting to his normal voice, he said, "I'll drive you, if you want."

"Only if we take one of the cars, not that death trap on two wheels you insist on riding."

He ignored the insult to his beloved bike. "You'll even get to choose the car."

Alfred smiled. "Thank you. For now, I shall retire to the garden with a book. Ingredients for lunch are on the middle shelf of the fridge. The recipes are still where I used to keep them, should you need them."

Jason nodded and waved him off. He pulled out an apron, remembering a lecture about staying tidy in the kitchen and not getting food on his good clothes. As far as he could tell, lunch was going to be salad and sandwiches today. He set about washing and chopping the vegetables for it when Tim wandered in, still in his pajamas. "Breakfast?" the younger boy asked.

"Lunch, Timmy."

"Mmmm." He shuffled toward the coffee maker, then frowned at the empty pot. "Who?"

Jason shrugged. "I just got here."

"Damn."

Jason snorted and watched Tim making coffee as he continued making lunch. Tim managed to get lost twice, forget to add water, and almost forget to put a filter in before adding the grounds. It was a disaster. He sat on a stool nearby, staring blearily at the world around him. His hair was askew and now that Jason was looking closer, he could see his shirt was on backwards. Jesus, they needed to get this kid to sleep more. This wasn't healthy. When the coffee finished, Tim climbed on the counter to retrieve a mug from one of the top shelves. It was almost as big as his head. "Why don't you just drink out of the pot at this point?" Tim's eyes brightened and he set the mug down. "No, fuck, I was exaggerating!"

Tim stared him down and took a long drink from the coffee pot, before spitting it all out and coughing. "Fuck, that's hot!"

Jason rolled his eyes and threw a kitchen towel at Tim. "No shit, dumbass. Clean your mess up."

"Thought you were Alfred today," Tim answered, letting the towel hit him and fall. " 'S what your text said."

"Do you really think Alfred would clean up after that?" Tim picked up the towel and started wiping up the mess. "Damn right."

Jason finished making lunch while Tim cleaned up and made himself a reasonable cup of coffee (still an unnecessarily large mug, but at least it was in a mug). He set the table and sent out a mass text. "Lunchtime, losers." Then he went up to the garden with the last plate and bowl and a cup of tea on a tray. "Your lunch, Sir Alfred."

The butler made a face as he accepted the food. "Thank you. However, I think I shall never get used to that title, Mas- Jason."

Jason grinned. "You have all day to practice."

"The reprieve has been appreciated. I was finally able to finish the novel I have been reading."

"How was it?"

"A trite cliche, I'm afraid." He sighed. "The butler did it."

Jason laughed heartily; Alfred looked pleased. "I dunno, Alfie. I'm pretty sure if you wanted to kill us, we wouldn't have a chance."

"Indeed you wouldn't."

After getting the laughter out of his system, Jason excused himself to eat his own lunch. He was surprised to see a full deck sitting at the table. He had made enough for everyone that he thought would stop by, with the intention of storing any meal and giving it to the intended recipient to eat later. Pre-made meals were a vigilante's saving grace, some days. He wouldn't have to worry about it today, though. Bruce was sitting at the head of the table, listening to Dick talk about Bludhaven. Damien was showing Cass something on his phone. Her animated expressions made him think they were reviewing his drawing for Alfred; Damian looked smug in that way meant he was receiving praise, and Cass looked completely adoring. It was either the artwork, or a cute picture of Pennyworth the Cat. Tim was still drinking from his obscene coffee mug, but his eyes were brighter and he was managing full sentences without being ambushed by hot liquids. Barbara was working on her laptop, but maintaining a conversation with Steph about a show they both watched. Kate was telling Duke a story about her early days as Batwoman and making her way as her own hero, not just a shadow of Bruce's.

Jason smiled and took the seat on Bruce's other side, across from Dick. "Thanks for lunch, Jay. You might need to plan for two more for dinner. Harper wants to come by, and she might bring her brother," Bruce informed him.

"Cool. Alfred hasn't told me what I'm making yet, but I'll keep it in mind." He listened to the various conversations around him as he ate, before quietly asking Bruce and Dick, "Do you think new kid is forming his Inappropriate Crush over there?"

Dick looked over at Duke thoughtfully, as if considering it. Bruce, on the other hand, looked very uncomfortable. "Please let's not talk about this. I would rather stab myself to death with this salad fork, and I frankly would prefer a much less painful option if it's my time to go."

Jason snorted. "Maybe Tim will let you drown yourself in his vat of coffee over there." Tim glared and clutched his coffee mug closer.

Over the years, all of the little Robins and Batgirls had formed crushes on people they shouldn't have. Dick called it the Catwoman Syndrome, seeing as how Bruce and Selina sort of started it. The only exception might be Cass; if she had ever had anyone in mind, he'd never heard about it. But he knew Dick had always worked in extra flips and quips when fighting Ivy. Tim had been told to make himself scarce when Selina came visiting. Babs had flirted with Azrael over comm's, and while Azrael wasn't that bad a guy overall, he hadn't been at the peak of mental health at the time. Granted, this was Gotham, so that wasn't saying much; they all ran around after a guy who dressed like a giant bat. And Jason had been so proud and smug when he discovered that he was Stephanie's, even if he had just been a rebound from her break up with Tim. Jason was sure that somewhere in Bruce's room was a desk with a slight indentation from him banging his head into it over the years. "And who's Damian's?"

Dick turned back to him. "I'm not sure, but he was really insulting to Helena last time she was in the area. Like, it was _baaaad_. You'd think he'd be nicer to the woman who saved my ass, but no."

"Maybe it was jealousy, if he thought she went anywhere near your ass?" Jason suggested. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Bruce growing more and more distressed. Apparently Daddy Bats didn't want the reminder that his little bird was growing up. This was fun.

"Speaking of which, who was yours?" Dick asked. "Bruce never ratted you out."

"Probably 'cause he wanted to keep me alive a little longer, not that it made a difference," Jason joked. "Mine was Kori."

"Ohhhhh. Can't blame you there."

"No, you _definitely_ can't." Jason noticed Bruce watching him out of the corner of his eye and bumped knees with him under the table. Jason's had definitely not been Kori. It'd been Harley. She was quirky, fun, obnoxious, a free spirit - a lot like him, in his mind. And hot of course, in his hormones' opinions. After his treatment at the hands of "Mistah J", he'd been especially cruel to her when he first came back to Gotham. It was bad enough that he even listened when Bruce pulled him aside (beat him in a fight) and talked to him about it (yelled and lectured a lot, and some fatherly advice accidentally snuck in). He'd toned it down (avoided her so he didn't get tempted to start shooting) after that, and since her split with Joker, she'd even come and apologized (sort of; it sounded a lot like his apology to Tim, come to think of it). He chose not to dwell on it too much; he was over it (as much as he would ever be), and it meant a lot to him that Bruce was checking on him right now. Better to focus on that.

"We should place bets on who Bruce is going to have to hear all about for the next six months," Jason said.

"Open to everyone, or just between us?"

"Everyone except Damian, since he hasn't gone through it yet."

"Even Cass? Her body language reading would give her an edge."

"Why not? We can all tell Bruce our bets and he can keep us honest." Jason grinned at Bruce, and got the Bat-scowl in return. How the public hadn't figured out Bruce was Batman from his glares alone was something of a mystery to Jason.

"Don't you have some chores you need to attend to?" Bruce asked.

Jason made a face as Dick snickered. "Fine. Just so you know, my money's on Kori."

"I'm thinking Barbara."

"Just because she was your first love-"

"She's everyone's first love."

Jason shook his head. He gathered the lunch dishes and took them to the kitchen to wash up, detouring to check on Alfred. The butler was dozing in the sun; Jason made a note to check on him later so he didn't get dehydrated or burnt. He'd spent longer on lunch than expected, so he'd have to work fast to keep up with Alfred's chore schedule. Briefly, he wondered if it was even accurate anymore, but Alfred hadn't corrected him or updated it, so he couldn't do anything else. Today was cleaning the bedrooms, Bruce's study, and the library. There were certainly a lot more bedrooms in use now, considering Bruce let everyone have a room in the Manor even if they didn't live here. He said it was so that everyone could crash after their nightly excursions, and could access the Batcave if needed, but Jason suspected it was because he wanted everyone close.

He decided to work oldest to youngest. Dick's room was mostly clean, as he spent most of his time in Bludhaven, with a big bag of laundry waiting. Jason remembered making a snide comment about it and getting shut down when Alfred pointed out that Dick worked full time during the day and then ran around fighting crime at night, and he would happily support the younger man by washing some of his clothes so he could worry about one less thing. Today, Jason cleaned around it, but promised himself he'd come back for it if he had time. Both Kate's and Barbara's rooms were almost spotless; all it took was a light dusting and vacuuming to clean them. He wasn't sure if it was a tidy personality or just extended absence, but he appreciated the lighter work load.

When he got to Tim's room, he was glad to see the owner sitting on his bed. It was a large pile of disorganized chaos in there. Jason would have been scared to touch anything and risk destroying whatever system Tim had in place. He was sure if asked, Tim would be able to locate anything he needed on the first try, but as an outsider, it just looked like terrifyingly tall piles of stuff. Tim glanced up from his book. "You don't have to clean in here. I keep it disinfected so I don't get sick."

" 'K, I'll just-"

"A cup of tea would be great, though."

He bit back the "fuck off" that was trying to make its way to his tongue and returned to the kitchen. A few minutes later, and he was back up the stairs. _How does Alfred do this all day, every day?_ He dropped the tea off with Tim and moved onto Stephanie's room. She and Cass were there, painting their nails. It was already decluttered, with most of the furniture moved out of the way so he could vacuum. "I try to have it picked up so Alfred doesn't have to do much," Steph explained as Jason worked around them.

"Thanks."

"I'll do your nails later, when you're done, if you want," she offered, putting an alarmingly bright shade of green on Cass' thumb.

"I'll pass. No one will be scared of the Red Hood if they see he has pink fingernails."

"Scarier," Cass said.

"Really?"

Her smile was the scariest thing, in his opinion, but he agreed to let them do his nails later. Cass' room was sparse in its decor, to say the least. There was a small flower pot in the windowsill, a copy of their picture in Jason's apartment on a shelf, and some (probably) decorative weapons around. Even if they were completely dull, Jason knew she could kill a man with any of them. The only other thing was a shelf that was slowly filling with books. It was like a timeline, with the board books she never touched gathering metaphorical dust (Alfred was never sloppy or lax in the slightest) on a top shelf, while the ones they were working on together were at a more reachable height. In the exact center of the middle shelf was a smaller picture in a frame. It was a selfie he and Cass had taken during one of their reading sessions. He burst with pride and smiled the entire time he was cleaning he room.

Damian was slouched on his bed when Jason came in, texting someone and listening to music on his phone. Pennyworth was curled up in his lap, and Titus was sleeping at the foot of the bed. "You look like such a teenager."

"I _am_ coming up on thirteen, Todd."

Something in Jason's chest clenched. His baby brother was a teenager now. Soon there'd be squeaky voices and real first crushes and acne (assuming his genetics weren't too perfect for that). If this was how Dick felt all the time about all of them, he supposed he could understand how clingy he got. He ignored an impulse to initiate any physical contact with the boy and got to work cleaning. For the most part, the room was clean, but there were clothes everywhere. Not just the center of the floor, like a normal kid, nor in front of the closet or wardrobe like he was changing in a hurry. He found socks on top of the bookcase and pants shoved behind the desk. "Why?" he asked a little helplessly when he dug an errant shirt from behind the dresser.

Damian shrugged. Frustrated, Jason started throwing the clothing at Damian, startling the cat. "Why- can't- you- put- your- clothes- in- the- fucking- hamper- like- a- normal- person?"

"This is not how Pennyworth handles things!" Damian complained, hurling them back.

It quickly escalated into a war. Pennyworth left the room, but Titus just snuffled in his sleep and rolled over. The socks ended up on top of a different bookshelf and Jason groaned. "Who were you having a sock war with the first time?" he grumbled, climbing up to dislodge them.

"Drake started it."

"Of course he fucking did. I don't even want to know about the pants, honestly. But the shirt?" Damian was suddenly very fascinated by the incoming text that failed to chime when it arrived. Jason looked closer and recognized it. "Isn't this Dick's? From his Spyral trip?"

"If it were, why would it be in my room?"

"Oh come on, at least make an effort when you're lying to me." He sighed and tried to think like a twelve year old boy again. "Look, I won't take it away from you. You don't need to do any stealth laundry loads to keep the shirt from finding its way back to his closet, okay?" Damian looked up and Jason knew he'd hit the mark. He turned his back and made a point of holding his hands over his eyes. "Go through and find any clothes that accidentally found their way into your room. I'll wait." He didn't hear any movement, but when Damian told him to open his eyes, there were three more shirts and two jackets added to the pile. Stupid ninjas. "Thank you. Don't worry, I'll get them back to you." He sighed at the realization that he had just signed himself up for laundry duty as well.

Duke was in his room too, working on his laptop. "Homework sucks," the younger man grumbled.

"I remember."

"What was your favorite subject when you were in school?"

"Uh, English, I guess? I don't remember."

"Right, sorry, that was a long time ago for you."

"Hey! I'm not that old!" Jason protested with a huff.

Duke grinned at him. He shut the laptop and sat so he was facing Jason as he worked around the room. It was pretty barren, but Jason figured he just hadn't had time to accumulate much stuff yet. "Tell me some of your crazier Robin stories."

"Well, there was this one time that I died. I was-"

Duke rolled his eyes. "Not that one. I've heard that one so many times. Bruce, Dick, _you_. Something new. Something fun." Jason raised an eyebrow at him. "What? Bruce is always all stern and grumpy and going on about strategy and timing. Everyone wants to make sure I'm safe and don't get hurt or killed. They never tell me any of the fun stuff."

"Fun stuff?"

"What were some of your weirdest adventures? Like, what's it like fighting Clock King, or Calendar Man?"

"You'd rather hear about Calendar Man than the Joker?" Jason asked doubtfully.

Duke groaned. "I have heard all about the Joker. So many times. C'mon man, I need a break."

Jason shrugged and complied with the kid's request while working. Most of the stories were weak and a little boring. It'd been a while, and they didn't stick with him the way some others did. But Duke seemed to enjoy it, asking questions and responding like he was paying attention, so Jason let himself get lost in some of the better memories from his time swinging around next to Batman. "I think the Crazy Quilt one was my favorite," he said when he was wrapping up and getting ready to move on.

"Thanks," Duke said, smiling. "That was way better than listening to another lecture."

"I hear ya. But don't completely tune those lectures out. They might keep you alive some day." Duke rolled his eyes, but nodded. Jason grinned. "Don't be afraid to have fun with it and do it your way though. Batman's the boring one, not Robin. Or Lark or whatever you call yourself now. Besides, if you did everything by the book and followed all his instructions, he wouldn't know how to handle it and would probably have you committed. I may have been a bit more wild and reckless, but none of us have ever been 'good' Robins, no matter what Dick says."

Jason moved on to the library next, and it was the biggest test of his self control not to pick up a book and start reading. He had loved this place when he first moved here. In fact...yup, that book still had his name written in it. "To Jason, Love Bruce," with a year beneath it. It had been one of the first gifts from Bruce that he wasn't suspicious or stubborn about, hadn't fought about it for the sake of maintaining his independence. He'd put it here instead of his room because he liked the idea of it being on a shelf next to so many others. _Oh shit, my room._ Somehow, he'd forgotten that he had a room of his own here. He'd focused on everyone else and skipped over his entirely. He didn't want to think about what that said about his relation to the family or its members. _I'll do it last_. He forced himself to keep working through the library instead of getting distracted. Once again, he was impressed at Alfred doing this on a regular basis and glad he didn't have the job. It was a different source of endurance, mental instead of physical, but it was still a challenge. 

Moving on, he faced the scariest part of the day and considered going to his own room to procrastinate on this one. Bruce's study, where he was probably holed up. Both his study and his room felt too private to intrude. As a kid, he hadn't had any scruples about it, but that was before Batarangs to the neck and attempting to murder one of his sons and...yeah. He'd come a long way, but they still were on shaky footing more often than not. He knocked softly, hoping it wouldn't be heard. "Come in," Bruce called. Of course he wouldn't be that lucky.

"Hey, B, this room is on Alfred's list. Am I gonna be in your way?" _Please say yes_.

"No, it's fine, come on in."

Well, shit. He moved around the room, trying to be quiet and not draw attention to himself. The study looked much like it had back in the day, except there were more knickknacks sitting around, and a lot more photo frames. He studied each as he dusted them. They were of all his kids, officially adopted and not. There was Duke, playing football in the park with Damian. There was Dick, hanging from a tree as a small boy. There were Stephanie and Kate, looking absolutely beautiful in formal gowns with their hair done up, probably for a Wayne event. There was Cass, smiling and hugging Bruce on her adoption day in court. There was a photo strip of Babs and Tim, probably from a mall or fair, of them making stupid faces into a camera. And...there was him, grinning jauntily next to a serious Bruce over ice cream sundaes. Except now that he knew Bruce better, he could see that there was a smile tugging at his lips.

"That's the closest I could find to the one of us in the cave," Bruce said, interrupting his inspection.

Bruce had turned in his desk chair and was smiling and watching Jason. He hurriedly put the picture back on the shelf. "Nah, you're smiling too much."

The man laughed. "Probably," He was quiet for a while, and Jason got back to work. "I'm glad you came by," he finally said. "I know the Manor isn't your favorite place to be, but Alfred appreciates it."

"Just Alfred?"

More silence. "No, all of us. Myself included."

Jason snuck a look at Bruce to find him studiously poring over whatever documents had been requiring his attention before hand. "Don't get used to it. It's Alfred's birthday. Only happens once a year."

"Of course."

They didn't talk as Jason finished and left, but he was smiling when he did. Thankfully, he didn't have much time to stew in his thoughts. About the time he finished his room, everyone decided they needed something, whether it was a snack or a cup of coffee or to clean up a mess ("Drake started it!"). Alfred declined his invitation to the city; he hadn't had any peace or quiet as people kept coming by drop off their gifts, but he was enjoying the chance to spend time with all of them. He did, however, give Jason his request for dinner, which required a quick trip to the store to get all of the ingredients for beef wellington. Then came one of Jason's biggest battles to date. The forces of all of Gotham's rogues combined could not have matched the might of his hungry family. The only one allowed in was Damian because of their nights spent together doing the same thing. Every time he turned around, someone was wandering into the kitchen to beg a sample or sneak a bite. Damian's presence only led to incessant whining from everyone else. Well, mostly from Dick, who Jason actually attacked with a broom to the face when he tried to sneak in yet again.

Jason had planned on making the little one help with the cake, but now it seemed like he was on door duty. Tim was allowed in for coffee only under Damian's supervision. Barbara and Steph tried a dual-headed attack, with Steph distracting him while Barbara snuck in, but Damian caught her. Kate didn't even try to sneak in, just demanded food and was turned away. Cass had made it in because she was obnoxiously sneaky like that, but turned away when she saw the meat was still uncooked. She made herself a perch on the counter until he enlisted her to help make Damian a vegetarian option. Unfortunately, this meant that no one was guarding the door. Jason saw movement out of the corner of his eye - tall with black hair - and grabbed the broom again. "Goddammit, stop trying to get food, it's not even cooked yet!" he snapped as he swung and hit...

...Bruce in the face, he realized with mounting horror. "Todd!" Damian yelled, sounding as unsettled as he felt.

"Uh, hi, Bruce," he said to the very confused man. "Ummmm...this is all your fault anyways," he decided, turning back to his work.

"How? I just wanted an apple. That's not even cooked. How is this my fault?" Bruce asked, moving towards the fruit basket. Cass was leaning against the counter, grinning.

"You only adopt kids with dark hair," Jason explained like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Damian was glaring at him, but Bruce just shook his head and walked out of the room, food in hand. As soon as the door shut behind him, Cass giggled and held up her phone. In further proof of her ninja skills, she had captured a picture of Jason looking terrified while what could be seen of Bruce's face around the broom showed wide, startled eyes. "Birthday present for Alfred," she announced.

"He'll love it," Jason agreed, and they all got back to cooking. Dinner finished without too many more mishaps, except for Damian lobbing an orange at a hungry Tim. Tim caught it and took a huge bite without peeling it, probably trying to freak Damian out or something, but that resulted in him spitting it all into the trash can and Damian looking viciously triumphant. Jason just shook his head and helped Cass finish up her work on the cake. Instead of one large cake, she had cooked a bunch of little cupcakes in different flavors. He trusted her judgement too much to worry about Alfred liking it; he just wanted to finish at the point.

When at last food was served and the family convened at the table in a large, loud mess, everyone agreed it was worth the wait. Alfred sat at the head instead of Bruce, which made him look very uncomfortable. The arrival of Harper and Cullen, however, distracted him as he happily accepted their presents and thanked them for coming. Cullen looked a little awestruck and Jason was a little worried he'd give himself whiplash staring at everything, until he finally focused his gaze on Tim. Jason decided that his first time meeting the kid wasn't a good time putting the fear of crime-lord-older-brother in the kid just yet. Besides, Tim could take care of himself, if he even noticed Cullen's interest. Right now, Alfred was the center of everyone's attentions. He complimented Jason on the dinner, and things settled down a little as everyone dug in.

Afterwards, Jason discovered that Damian was the only one who hadn't delivered his present. "C'mon kiddo," he said in an undertone, "you gotta do it some time." Damian scowled and picked at his plate. Jason sighed. "Look, he'll love it."

"Of course he will," Damian snapped back. "That is not the concern."

"Oh yeah? Prove it." Damian glared and Jason smirked. "I dare you." The glower deepened, and he smirked in reply. Abruptly, the kid rose and left, and Jason snorted. He was so easy to play. He'd managed to do in seven words what would have taken Dick five minutes of pleading and at least one promised trip to the arcade.

"Pennyworth," said Damian, walking into the room with the wrapped frame in hand, "I wish to present you with your present."

"Thank you, Master Damian. I am eager to see what you have been working on for so long."

Damian hesitated. It wasn't much, just a slight falter in his steps. When Jason caught his eye and nodded, he resumed his walk forward. Alfred took the gift from him and peeled the paper away, clearly wanting to take care of whatever it held. He stared and said nothing when he opened it. Damian started to fidget. "It was Todd's idea," he muttered when no reaction was forthcoming.

"Then I'm glad you listened, young sir, because this is extraordinary," Alfred said, looking up with a smile. He set the portrait down, picture facing the family, and hugged Damian. The kid couldn't seem to decide if he was okay with this or not, but finally returned the gesture. Everyone else rose to get a better look and crowded around them. Jason hung towards the back; he'd already seen it.

"Damian, this is amazing!" Dick exclaimed, and everyone agreed. The tip's of the boys ears were starting to redden as he pulled away from Alfred and turned towards the audience.

"How'd you draw me in so well?" Barbara asked, studying the artwork closer. "It looks like a photograph."

"I based it on one that Father had from your days as Oracle."

She nodded and smiled. "I love it."

"You did a great job, son," Bruce said, and Damian's face lit up.

"Indeed he did. It will look wonderful in my room." At the whining and pleading that followed, Alfred declared, "No, it will not be hanging with all of the family portraits in the hall. It will hang in my room, as it is my gift."

Bruce laughed heartily; he couldn't remember the last time Alfred had claimed something so adamantly. The party began to wind down after that. Everyone complimented Jason, Cass, and Damian on the meal. Alfred teased him about recruiting help, but he just said that he could never be half the man Alfred was. Alfred agreed and more laughter followed. Harper and Cullen were the first to leave, citing school in the morning. Damian and Cass both retreated next. Jason figured that after the busy, full house all day, the two probably needed some time to rest and recharge. Dick offered to help him with the dishes, while Steph and Kate went to the home theater to watch some new movie they had been wanting to see. Jason told Tim to go to bed after he yawned for the fifth time in a row. The younger man went, grumbling something about not being a child anymore and how he shouldn't get sent to his room. Duke was talking to Alfred and Bruce as they retired to a more comfortable location to chat.

"Thanks for getting off your ass and helping, Dick," Jason said as they started going through the dishes.

"Thanks for letting me."

He raised an eyebrow. "Like there's any way I'd turn down help with the dishes."

Dick smiled. "You accepting help at all is kind of a new thing." They worked in silence for a little before Dick commented, "You've been a lot more available lately."

"Huh?"

"You don't threaten to shoot me when I barge in anymore. Tim says he studies over there at least once a week. The only person who hasn't invaded your space regularly is Duke, and that's because he's never gotten an invite."

"Since when do you people need an invite?"

"Since he doesn't actually know you that well?"

"Whatever. What's your point?"

"No point, really. Just...thanks. It's nice, having you around again."

This was getting too emotional, so Jason grabbed the hose attachment on the sink and sprayed water in Dick's face. Clean up would take way longer now that a water war had been waged, but it was worth Dick's look of shock turning to joy. Wet socks were the worst feeling in the world, but tackling Dick and watching the original Boy Wonder fall on his ass because he couldn't keep his balance made up for it. When they had laughed and fought themselves out, they collapsed on the floor in front of the sink. Jason smacked Dick when he shook his hair out like a wet dog. "Asshole."

"You started it." Dick sighed and leaned against Jason's shoulder. "Seriously, Jay, I'm glad you're here. It's good to have my little brother back."

Acting before thinking, Jason placed a kiss on the top of Dick's head. It had become a habit with everyone else, though he usually preferred to wait till they were passed out before delivering it. He braced himself for the coming onslaught of affection. "Goddammit," he muttered as Dick did his best imitation of an octopus and latched himself onto Jason.

"I can't believe you did that! This is the best day ever!" Dick screeched in his ear.

"Indeed it is, sir." They both jumped and looked up at Alfred, who was pointing a cell phone in their direction.

"That's recording, isn't it?" Jason asked defeatedly.

"Of course, Master Jason. I heard the ruckus you two were raising and wanted to ensure the safety of my kitchen. However, the sight of my grandsons playing like they haven't since your early days in the Manor, Master Jason, are worth any amount of mess I have to clean up." Alfred smiled and held out a hand to each boy, pulling them to their feet.

"We're going to clean it up, Alfie, don't worry," Dick assured the older man.

"Indeed. I pray it goes better than your washing of the dishes. In fact, I shall stay to supervise and ensure that you stay focused."

Dick sulked. "He started it."

"Whatever, octopus boy."

They bickered as they cleaned. Despite saying he intended to monitor them, Alfred never once interrupted or told them to get along, Still, the dishes and kitchen were cleaned and dried without further incident. Miraculously, not a single dish was broken. Dick went to go change clothes, and Jason hesitated. He could go home, or he could go upstairs to where his freshly cleaned room was waiting with a large, warm bed that didn't require driving across town. "You are welcome to stay, if you'd like, but you have fulfilled your obligation to the family," Alfred told him gently.

"Wasn't here for the family," Jason muttered.

"Did I not receive three different 'best grandfather' mugs from you over the years? I am very much family, young man!" Alfred huffed.

"You're different. You don't have...expectations."

"Master Jason." The man enveloped him in another hug. "Despite what you think, neither do they. They think they do, but they are quite willing to bend and set those aside if the alternative is losing you."

"They're still there," Jason whispered. "I'll always disappoint them."

"That's-"

"Jason Todd, you're in trouble!" Steph screamed from another room. "I'm very disappointed in you!"

"See?" Jason said as he stepped away. Louder, he called, "I'm in here!"

"We are in a _mansion_ , idiot, be more specific!"

"The kitchen! What do you want?"

The thumping of socked feet, two pairs' worth, heralded Steph and Cass' arrival. "I want you to not stand us up, jerk," Steph answered at a more reasonable volume. Both girls poked their head in the door.

"Nails," Cass reminded him. She wiggled hers at him.

"Todd! When will you be doing laundry? I want my sweater back!" Damian hollered.

Jason groaned. He'd forgotten both of those promises in the birthday rush. Alfred chuckled. "It would appear you are staying the night after all. You have some expectations to meet."

"Hurry up, or we're starting Pride and Prejudice without you!" Steph announced before racing off. "It's the 2005 one," she added as an afterthought.

"Todd! Laundry!"

"Hey, if you're doing laundry, can you throw mine in too?" Dick yelled.

"I'll do it tomorrow, brat!"

"Which one of us were you calling brat?" asked Dick.

"Yes!" Jason groaned again. "I should have stayed dead. It was easier and a hell of a lot quieter."

"You don't mean that," Alfred refuted with a scowl.

Jason considered it. Speaking terms with Bruce. Occasional hugs and the even more rare stealth forehead kiss with siblings. Lunch with Damian, talking with Duke, nails with his girls, a water fight with Dick, Tim handing him a stack of resurrection paperwork to read, consider, and sign if/when he was certain.... "No, not even a bit," he assured Alfred. He hugged him again, pressed a hurried kiss to his head, and ran after his sisters so he didn't risk missing The Hand Touch.


End file.
